


of hearts and harts

by Kingscunt



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Fluff, Harry Hart is a Little Shit, Hospitals, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 11:40:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11622765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kingscunt/pseuds/Kingscunt
Summary: After a nasty fight with Dean that almost leaves Eggsy killed, he meets one of them posh wankers in the hospital.Except, he isn't really a wanker. What he doesn't know, is Harry Hart is about to change Eggsy's world.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know if this counts as alternative universe? i mean, the way they meet is a lot different, i guess. 
> 
> i'll try and update this as much as i can. it may be slow the next few weeks - im moving next week and ive just started working. 
> 
> but i have big plans for this. and I'll try not to make this too angsty, for once.
> 
> kingscunt.tumblr.com

The all too familiar environment of a sterile hospital room. The first thing that hits him is the smell, the pungent smell of disinfectant that's been sprayed a little too liberally. The steady beeping of the machines, that confirm that yes, you are actually quite alive, and not dead. 

The shooting pain that radiates from his abdomen rapidly intensifies. Not much use screaming when you have a plastic tube shoved down your fucking throat. Jesus, he was really done this time. 

Doctors rush round the room, gathering whatever materials they need to do whatever they're going to do. He doesn't quite know. One nurse stands next to him, monitoring his blood pressure. The band round his arm fucking hurts, but it's something to take the focus off of the pain that is just about everywhere else on his body. 

He can't quite make out what she's saying. Her voice is soft and gentle, but everything's far too much of a haze. 

_Fuck, these lights are bright._

He feels a gentle squeeze in his hand, but he can't face moving to figure out who it is. The migraine is awful, but he's sure he wasn't hit round the head. Maybe it's from nearly fucking dying.

The nurse is still speaking when he finds himself drifting back to sleep.

 

The next time he wakes up, he feels slightly better. No tube in the throat - wow, it feels nice to not be deepthroating some plastic. The pain has dulled, probably from the morphine being pumped into him.

He's greeted by a middle aged, fed-up looking doctor. Quite attractive, but looking miserable ruins him, to be honest.

"Ah, Gary. Nice to see you awake."

"That's Eggsy to you," He croaks. It's hard to speak, without feeling like sandpaper's being shoved down his throat. The doctor rolls his eyes, and takes a seat next to him.

"Save your energy, _Eggsy_ ," he mutters. "You're very lucky. The stab wound could have done fatal damage. It's good to see you pulled through - it was very touch and go for a while."

Tell Eggsy something he doesn't know.

"Anyway, you're healing, so that's a good thing. You had a major concussion, and we're going to keep you in for a while, keep a record of your observations, wait for the wound to heal, considering you had a bad infection-"

"Listen, mate," Eggsy spits, I ain't staying no longer than I need to." 

He'd had his fair share of time spent in hospital beds, and has the scars to prove it. A few days at a time, usually. It's torture, having to watch TV from a shit 12 inch screen and eating cardboard food. Can hospital food even be classed as food? Yeah, for dogs, maybe.

The doctor chuckles at Eggsy's anger. Bastard. He stands up, and grabs the clipboard sitting on one of the sterile sides. 

"Of course, we'll discharge you as soon as we can. But we can't just yet. Relax, you have your own private room. Well, for now. The police will be here soon to talk about the incident, so try and calm down a little." He walks out of the room, ignoring Eggsy's pained shouting.

Police? Nah, he'd rather handle things by himself. Dean isn't getting away with it this time. What doesn't kill him only makes him stronger, right? If anything, he's just got a new scar to show off. 

 

Eggsy soon remembers how boring it is in hospital. No magazines, no Xbox, the TV doesn't even work. It hurts too much to stand up, and since the hospitals turned 'smoke free,' he can't even have a fag. This is shit. He stares at the ceiling, making shapes out of the mysterious stains on the ceiling. 

He wonders how many people have died in this room. He's glad he wasn't one of them. 

Eventually, two policemen arrive. One of them was very short, and had more than an extra few pounds. The other, tall, as skinny as a lamp post.It's quite comical, really. They don't look too happy when Eggsy roars with laughter. Hey, gotta find laughter even in the worst situations. 

"So, Mr. Unwin, what exactly happened for you to get this injury?" The short one asks, whipping out the notepad.

"Slipped and fell onto something sharp," Eggsy retorts, crossing his arms and wincing in pain from stretching the wound. 

"Bollocks." The tall one mutters under his breath. 

"You really think I'm gonna talk to you wankers?" Eggsy lets out more laughter, this time, sarcastic and cold. "How about this, yeah? Why don't you two fuck off, because you ain't gonna get nowhere here. I slipped over, that's all I'm gonna say. You can sit here all night, I ain't telling you nothing else."

After what feels like forever, the two coppers leave. With no information. 

Which leaves Eggsy bored, because he quite enjoyed watching them get more and more frustrated. Like he's gonna tell them anything. What jokers.

 

One nurse comes in every hour, taking notes on his blood pressure, heart rate, and pain scale. She tops up his morphine, and shoots down his not so smooth pick up lines. 

The room is cold and dark at night. The doctors turn his light off at 10, but he's too proud to admit he's scared of the dark. The blankets are like paper, and the doctor tells him to make do with what he's got when he asks for another. 

The next morning, he's rudely woken up by the same miserable doctor from the day before, ripping open the curtains.

"Rise and shine, Eggy! You're being moved." He chimes. Eggy? The urge to punch the doctor is great, but there's not really much point of that. 

He doesn't protest it, in fact, he's quite glad. Maybe the ward will have a TV that fucking works. He doesn't even care that he'll be sharing it with 4 or 5 other people - he's king of the TV remote now. Nobody stands a chance.

 

The ward is quiet, unsurprisingly. One bed has the curtains shut, with whoever it is behind it crying hysterically. The person next to them lays there, snoring loudly. The last man, next to him, puts up a fight with the doctors, telling them he wants to go home at once, and they can't keep him there against his will. He sounds like a posh bastard, the kind that Eggsy hates, but nevertheless, he can't help but laugh. 

"Tried that one as well, more like a prison here, bruv." Eggsy says. The older man laughs, but says nothing. 

He tucks into the dinner that's just been served, and flicks through the channels, trying in vain to find something worth watching. With nothing decent on, the shit food, and the woman that won't stop crying, he wonders if maybe dying was a better option.

"Skipping Downton Abbey? You have no taste," the man next to him says. He flicks his newspaper, not looking up, but Eggsy can see the smirk on his face. 

"Spare me the bullshit, I'd rather be stabbed again than watch that shite." Eggsy quips. "Who're you anyway, you nosey bugger?"

The older man sits up on the bed, readjusting the flimsy pillow. "I'm not being nosey when it's a communal TV. My name's Harry Hart."

Eggsy had to admit, Harry is bloody gorgeous. His slender frame, almond brown eyes, and rich brown slicked back hair. He's the epitome of posh wanker, but hot. Fuckable. 

"Yea? I'm Eggsy."

"I bloody hope that's not your real name."

"Oi, I'll have you know it's a great name." Eggsy scoffs. He takes a sip of the tepid water. It tasted shit, and slightly of disinfectant. "Fuck me, even the water's shit."

"May I remind you that we're not exactly in a five star hotel, Eggsy." Harry says. "Did you say you got... Stabbed?"

"Something like that, don't really matter, he'll get what's coming to him. Why're you in here?" 

"I... I slipped, and fell. Nothing serious." 

Eggsy laughs at the blatant lie. Great minds think alike, and all that. 

"Interesting." He knows not to call him out. They sit in silence for a long while, while Eggsy tries to finish the rest of the beef 'stew' that was served. It's lukewarm and watery, but anything to fill his empty stomach. 

 

The following night is a sleepless one. Pairing the snoring of one patient with the never ending crying of the other patient left Eggsy laying there, staring at the ceiling. He thought of suffocating both of them with their pillows, but with how thin they are, he probably wouldn't be able to do any damage anyway.

He watches Harry while he sleeps. He looks adorable, his hair falling down his forehead, hugging the blanket. 

Is it creepy watching a man you barely know sleep? Probably. 

Does Eggsy care? Nah. 

He feels weird, being so infatuated with someone he barely knows. Hell, he only met him the day before. But something feels nice - like he's an old friend, someone who he can trust. And God, is Harry beautiful. 

He falls asleep facing Harry, falling into dreams that aren't nightmares, for once.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i suppose this is more of a filler than anything. trying to slowly ease the two dorks together lol
> 
> comments are really appreciated! i hope you all enjoy :)

Eggsy's woken up in the morning by the sound of angry voices, and loud footsteps. The curtain next to him is pulled over, but doctors and nurses rush back and forth from Harry's bed. 

"I will not tolerate another second in this shit hole. What sort of breakfast is this? Let me go at once." The older man shouts.

The whole scenario is deeply amusing. 

The next few days, Eggsy gets to know Harry more and more. After all, there's nothing else to do in the ward. For a posh bloke, he really ain't that bad. 

Eggsy plays his favourite grime music to Harry (who of course, hates it), and Harry forces Eggsy to watch Downton Abbey on the tiny TV. They take walks to the cafe downstairs together, laughing at how ridiculous the other looks, dragging an IV pole behind them. 

Harry treats Eggsy to hot chocolates and paninis from the cafe, which is a nice change to the sloppy hospital food. They talk and talk, about anything and everything. 

 

A week later, Eggsy wakes up to Harry fully suited. An expensive, tailor made suit that showed off his broad shoulders and slim waist. He stares, amazed at how lovely the man's figure is. The hospital gown didn't really show Harry's figure off at all. 

"Oi, where you going?"

"I've been discharged. Finally."

Disappointment floods Eggsy. He knew it was only a matter of time before he'd have to say goodbye to Harry, but he doesn't want to. He loves spending time with him. Yes, maybe it was because they had no choice but to talk, being stuck on the same ward. But he felt a connection. Something he's never felt in anyone else before. 

"Does that mean I won't see you again?" Eggsy asks, failing to hide the sadness in his eyes. 

Harry opens his mouth to speak when he's interrupted. 

"I see you're ready to be discharged. I told you to be on your best behaviour." A bald man says. A disgruntled look covers his face. He stands with a doctor, the same doctor that has had many fights with Harry. That doctor has a black eye, the poor sod.

"And I told you that I was." Harry stands up and brushes down his jacket. He turns round to Eggsy with a crumpled note in his hand. "Here's my number, Eggsy. As far as hospital stays go, you made this one... rather enjoyable, in a way. I'd like to see you again, when you're discharged. If you want, of course."

"Jesus, let the man out of my sight for five minutes and he's perving up some poor fucker." The bald man ridicules, leaving the doctor laughing. 

"Oh, yeah, of course I'd like to see you again. You're alright, unlike most other posh twats." 

Harry smiles, and it hurts to watch him leave. Of course Eggsy's happy that he's well enough to go, but... It feels empty in the ward. The crying woman was moved God knows where a few days ago, presumably the psych ward. There's only him and the snoring man left, who does nothing but, well, snore.

The day before Eggsy is discharged, his mum comes to visit. She's brings Daisy along, and she insists on sitting on the hospital bed, and playing with the buttons. There's so much going up and down that he feels travel sick. 

She brings him a magazine and some sweets, which cheers him up a bit. 

The visiting hours finish, and Eggsy is left alone again. 

 

Finally, he gets discharged from the hospital. Apparently, the wound had healed great, and while it was still painful, most of the pain had subsided. At least it didn't hurt to walk, now. 

As he walks through the car park, he recognises a familiar face. 

"Eggsy. Would you like a lift home?" Harry asks, looking very dapper in another bespoke suit. It looks damn expensive, and damn hot. 

"How'd you know I was being discharged?" Eggsy asks indignantly. Was he stalking him? The funny thing was, he didn't really mind if Harry was or not. 

"Let's just say I had a feeling. Come along."

The two get into the black cab. It's disgustingly posh - bottles of expensive looking whiskey sit on a shelf under the glass that separated them from the driver. The driver himself looked like one of the stereotypical butlers. 

Jesus, that's Harry's chauffeur. He must be loaded. Eggsy didn't even know what this man does for a living, but it must pay damn well. A banker maybe? Somehow, Harry didn't seem the banker type.

"Where to, Mr. Hart?"

"To my house, please." Harry replies. He laughs at the confused look on Eggsy's face. "What? It's not like I'm kidnapping you."

"Well, you didn't tell me we're going to yours. How do I know you ain't some sort of freak?"

"Do I seem like a freak?"

"Nah, just a posh twat."

"Fair enough. I'll take that."

The car drives through London, through some of the roughest looking estates and through some of the most beautiful areas. They go past Big Ben, Houses of Parliament (where Eggsy rolls the window down and shouts 'TWATS!' at them, of course), and finally, into Stanhope Mews. By now, it's dark. Evening.

The house is right at the end of the Mews. A posh, yet moderate sized house - nice potted plants decorate the front of the house. Spotlights light up the front of the house elegantly. 

"You live 'ere? Fucking hell. You made of money or what?" Eggsy asks, amazed. 

"Not so much made of money, but let's just say my job takes care of me." Harry replies after thanking the driver. He pulls a key out of his pocket and opens the front door. "After you, Eggsy."

If Eggsy wasn't amazed by the house before, he certainly was now. It's beautiful, with high ceilings, mahogany furniture. Delicate framed butterflies line the walls, and there's paintings of various landscapes. There's a record player older than him sitting in the living room, kept in immaculate condition. 

It's a lot to take in. One odd thing, is the lack of photos of Harry, or his family, or anything of that sort. 

The only photo of Harry sits on his coffee table. Him and the same bald man from the hospital, looking awkward. Like typical old men trying to figure out how to use a camera. 

Harry seems lonely. 

Well, Eggsy wants to be part of his life. 

"Nice place," are he only words Eggsy can find. Harry gives him a smirk, and walks into one of the other many rooms.

"Would you like a drink?" He shouts from the other room.

"Yeah, please, mate." Eggsy shouts back. He kicks off his trainers and jumps onto the sofa - they look way too expensive to have some grubby old shoes on them. 

The older man walks in, champagne on one hand, am two antique glasses in the other. He sets them on the table with great care, and pours two glasses of bubbly. 

"So, what do you do? Must be pretty high up to have a place like this," Eggsy asks, sipping the champagne. He ain't usually a fan of drinks like this. Sticks to beer, cider, vodka. But this was delicious.

"I'm a tailor on Savile Row," he answers. "Maybe you could swing round one day. Get a nice suit."

"Thanks, but I ain't really got money for that sort of thing."

"Let's just say it'd be a gift from me to you. A thank you for keeping me company." Harry says. He downs his glass, and swiftly pours another one. "I wanted to ask, if it's not too intruding. Why exactly was you stabbed, Eggsy?"

The shine in Harry's eyes tells Eggsy he won't take bullshit for an answer. He looks concerned, which feels... Nice. Almost like he's looking out for him. 

Eggsy stretches out his legs, trying to get comfortable. 

"Honestly? My step dad, Dean. Him and his dogs tried to do me in after a fight," He takes a deep breath, trying to ignore the anger rising inside, "I'm used to it. Ain't the first time and it won't be the last. Sick of him pushing my mum around, acting like a hard man. Can't be hard man if you hit women, you get me?"

Harry listens silently. He keeps a straight face, but Eggsy can see anger in his eyes as well. The man truly cares. Nobody ever cared about him before.

Yet here Eggsy is, sitting in the house of a man he's only known a week, being able to open up more than he could with anyone else.

"It's funny, really. I never use a weapon to defend myself. Yet they feel like they gotta bring blades. What's wrong with good ol' fashioned fists?" He rambles, his voice raising with every word. 

"What a nasty, awful excuse of a man." Harry finally says. He stares at Eggsy, so intently, almost making him uncomfortable. "Have you spoken to the authorities?"

"I ain't no snitch, Harry."

"I see."

The two sit in silence for what feels like an eternity. Maybe now is the time to pour another drink?

"Eggsy, do you work?" He asks. Fucking random, given the conversation that had unfolded ten minutes ago.

"Uh, nah, why?"

"Would you like to come to my shop? I'd like to show you around."

"I ain't got nothing better to do. Let's go."

 

The cab pulls up outside of a very fancy looking tailor shop. Savile Row - the smartest road in London. The front is dimly lit, and Eggsy can see a few men working with sewing machines from the window in the basement. Working on suits at 10pm? Fuck, these guys were serious.

He follows him into the shop. It's very old fashioned, very nice. 

"Come in," Harry says, holding open the door to one of the fitting rooms."

"You ain't gonna like, do me up the arse, are you?" Eggsy jokes. Well, sort of. He wouldn't mind that.

"Not yet," Harry winks, leaving Eggsy bright red. He tries to cover his blushing cheeks, very unsuccessfully. 

"You're probably wondering why I'm bringing you here," Harry says in front of the large mirror. 

"Yea, sort of." Eggsy replies. He watches Harry through the mirror. So beautiful. How can he feel this way for someone he's only known a week? He feels so ridiculous, but then, he longs for Harry.

"I want to take you out of the current life you lead. It doesn't take much to know that you're probably not leading the most successful life," Harry says, ignoring Eggsy's angry face. "Not to mention Dean's abuse. I want to help you, Eggsy. I see potential in you, that maybe nobody else can see. I want to ask you, if you would like to join Kingsman."

"Like a tailor?" Eggsy asks, confused. 

"A Kingsman agent."

"Like...a spy?"

"Of sorts, yes."

Eggsy's eyes shine with excitement. "You think I got anything to lose?"


End file.
